


Summit

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter), Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)



Series: The Mountains Are The Same [36]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Furiosa's arm, Gen, Prosthesis, The Giving Of Gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Summit [ˈsʌmɪt/] noun</i><br/>1.   The highest point of a hill or mountain. The highest attainable level of achievement.<br/>2.   A meeting between heads of government.<br/><br/>Kompass was waiting for her outside the door of her quarters, and she grumbled at how predictable she apparently was, falling for their baiting. Pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders. At least he had the good grace not to look triumphant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summit

By the fifth day her body didn't feel so heavy anymore, though the thought of getting up - to do _what_ , exactly? Check in on things? Find out how the Citadel was doing? Attend Council? Did any of those things really _need_ anything from her? - still tired her.

Her crew had been careful of her, giving her space even though they didn't quite understand that she wasn't sick. They'd chatted and quietly worked on projects - including her arm - and played games, and she was surprised to find she didn't resent it at all.

She was glad they'd come to her with the papers they'd struggled with, even though knowing what Joe had done lay heavy on her chest. As if everything else hadn't been enough, Joe had actively poisoned the warboys, and she felt like she should have _known_ that. Now she'd read about it, the dim memory of lead being dangerous rang with childhood echoes. She had heard that before, just… hadn't connected it to the big celebration of Joe's special water system for the warboys.

But it still didn’t much compel her to do anything; except feel pride at the way they were handling things for themselves.

She was glad Ace had brought Marienny around to talk, yesterday. It had done her good to speak of Guzzer, even though there was so much pain wrapped up in knowing his death had been utterly pointless, that his life could have been so much more. That he could have been here, with the woman who still missed him, perhaps could have found a way to be some kind of father to the little girl that looked so much like him.

It was all such a _waste_ , and every time she thought about it she got angry and sad all over again in new ways.

After they'd come back to her quarters after the Dispute, Ace had stayed and they'd ended up talking about Sprocket. About how Ace had taken the slight Warboy under his protection until it had become clear that wasn't needed, but they'd always remained friends. About how Sprocket had been the first to make Furiosa want to be touched, and about how he'd explained to the other Warboys how to do it, how to make her feel good.

She'd laughed, not having known about the instructions, about Sprocket's advice to try things with the breeders, to practice before they did something with her. Then she'd cried, because Sprocket was gone and he could have been here, _should_ have been here in this new Citadel.

Ace had wrapped her in his arms and not said anything when she'd made his shoulder wet with tears. If she'd thought maybe the top of her head felt a little damp where he pressed his face to it, she certainly would never mention it.  

She was still so tired. Everything seemed like too much and not enough all at once, and all she wanted was to stay in her bed and let it wash over her.

However now they were apparently going to blow themselves up. Furiosa _knew_ she was being baited, knew exactly what they were doing, but maybe she was _ready_ to be lured out of her nest of blankets. If only to help them limp to the infirmary.

They might not even have the survival instinct to go themselves at this rate.

Kompass was waiting for her outside the door of her quarters, and she grumbled at how predictable she apparently was, falling for their baiting. Pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders. At least he had the good grace not to look triumphant, and just kept pace with her.

Austeyr and Rachet weren't far ahead, and waited for them to catch up. She caught a glimpse of what was in the crates they carried.

“What are you doing with those things exactly?” It was full of salvage, but all small functioning bits instead of metal that would need to be reformed, working hinges, intact bolts; explosives too but also a nearly jaw-dropping amount of wasteland treasure that would ordinarily only be lavished on the rigs. They can’t be serious about—

“Like I said, makin’ you a new arm!” Rachet said eagerly, ducking around a rock outcropping that would have winged the box out of his hands otherwise, “that’s what all I was workin’ on before, I got most of the joints in place…”

“But I already have one,” And a spare, which they’ve all seen. There was the hook she’d cobbled together as well as the arm they’ve retrieved from the canyon.

"Could do with more than just two arms, is what I’m saying; I'm makin' an arm for you too. Can’t let Rachet do it all," Austeyr declared, stirring through his box of parts. "Figure you could use more. Rachet's is for normal days, mine's gonna be for…" his gaze turned hopeful, " _special_ days."

Furiosa’s face went alarmed despite herself. Maybe also intrigued, because she was never quite sure what Austeyr would consider a _special_ day. This arm might involve a flamethrower - or a vibrator.

"Oh man, they gave you one of _those_?" Rachet leaned over to rummaged in Austeyr's box too. "Shine!"

"Bartered for it. And this. Look, it locks."

 _Bartered?_ Furiosa thought, how long had they been planning this?

"What's this for?" Kompass pointed.

"Well those special days, the Boss might need a crossbow on hand, you know?"

"Makes sense," Kompass agreed seriously. "Look, mine has a secret compartment."

Furiosa blinked. “You’re making one as well?”

“I am now,” Kompass said easily, not meeting her gaze as he riffled through the box. She narrowed her eyes at him but had to glance elsewhere because—

"I wonder if I could fit a grenade launcher here," Rachet mused. “We have the thunderheads for it.”

A sound barked out of her that was sort of like laughter. It felt rusty and ill-used and was met with three identical grins.

"I think she likes the grenade launcher idea," Austeyr stage whispered to Rachet.

"Recoil would be murder on her nub," Ace said, walking up and joining their group. Furiosa was relieved at least somebody still had his wits about him.

"Thanks, Ace," she sighed. "I can always rely on you to knock some heads on straight—"

But he immediately rammed that thought, "Crossbow's gotta be doable though."

"See? I told you!" said Austeyr.

Furiosa furrowed her forehead trying to imagine it. Gave up.

Austeyr was working up a full head of steam arguing the merits of smaller explosions versus bigger ones with Kompass playing devil’s advocate. Ace and Rachet were providing heckling and commentary, joining one side or another as the whim struck them. They were all talking as they were moving up the darkened steps, onto the green where the sunlight now crashed onto them, warmly.

When she breathed in, it tasted sharp and crisp, like it was a fruit she bit into, and she’d looked at her crew expecting them to react to it too. But they seemed to be busy debating armature, or simply being ridiculous, shoving each other down the paths, boxes in their careful grip of small luxuries that the Citadel had gathered for her use. Some feeling welled in her chest and it made her want to try, for them, a little.

Furiosa finally just asked, “How would I even set the reloads?”

There was a pause.

They all turned to her, a shock of sudden attention, smiling warmly.

 

* * *

 

Max had distractedly parked the buggy and trailer in a small wedge of space near the lift, war pups immediately scrambling over the trailer and sorting through the salvage. He’d answered Janey and Gilly best he could about the locations of wrecks and shook his head at Capable’s hopeful question about any war boys he’d met. He’d need to think about what they’d need to know about what he saw and how to even word any of it. If he was being over-protective by watching his words... or if what war boys did to each other when desperate was just an obvious thing and didn’t need words wasted on it.

Gilly stayed back at the garage to sort through his finds, and Janey seemed to be organising a follow-up mission out. Capable led him over to the mess hall, where they fetched food for him but—

Max couldn’t help protecting his food against attacks that didn’t come and peering around distractedly, feeling exposed on the stone bench all on his own. He was surprised to realise he'd gotten used to eating alongside Furiosa's crew.

Capable looked at him steadily, and then rose slowly out of her seat, “Come on, I think you might eat better up around the green.”

“Nhgh?” Max peered up, head furrowed.

She just walked out expecting him to follow, and he caught a quick glimpse of her smile before she turned her head forward. He gathered his biscuit and lizard quickly and and caught up.

“Furiosa’s crew got her up to the terraces again, she seems to be enjoying it.” Capable paused slightly, “Mmm, we should possibly call them something else. Kompass is working on gathering and training a proper crew for her when she’s well enough to want to go on runs so there really should be a separate name for you guys...”

Max just raised his eyebrow at her as he chewed through his food, listening to her thoughts on names quietly. Maybe he gave her some hums of encouragement but mostly found himself flicking his eyes around at the dark places in the hallways they passed, tracking the flickers of light.

They paused at the curve of the gardens when he saw a circle of war boys with Furiosa on the ground with what looked like a mess of metal and tools around them. Each of them had a scramble of metal in their hands and the men all looked slightly manic, shouting at each other over their work.

The war boys were saying something about a grenade launcher, and Max walked closer despite himself. Capable’s attention seemed to be caught by something off to the side.

“How big?” he asked.

“Huh?” they blinked up at him, but nobody seemed surprised at his appearance or his sudden intrusion.

“The explosion?” he clarified. He spread his fingers in illustration.

Furiosa reached out to him, and he crouched down next to her to press foreheads with her. Let the touch linger a moment, breathing her in. It was such a relief to be back, to see her. She looked paler than he remembered, sicker than he thought she ought to, but she was smiling a little.

“That’s what I’m saying! The kickback would still maul her arm, y’can’t do it.”

“Her… arm?” his attention was drawn back by the others, and he sat down on the grass, stretching out his bad leg.

“Yeah!” Rachet remarked cheerfully, holding up his project, “We’re having an arms race!”

An… _arms race_?

“And talking about how feasible it would be to put a launcher into one!”

“Maybe even a thunderstick launcher!”

“Still say crossbow’s the way to go.” Ace muttered.

“But she’d constantly have to reset the draw!"

"At least she _could_ , on account of her shoulder not being fucked by the recoil."

“If you just add a retractable tripod—”

“Tripod! You given any thought over how heavy that’s all gonna be?!”

Furiosa had the air of having heard this all before, but the twitches around the edges of her mouth indicated amusement.

He wondered if it was a more sane version of lizard racing.

“Max,” it was a young woman’s voice greeting him and when he looked over, Cheedo were standing there, looking at the circle of Warboys with interest. Cheedo crouched down to show him something.  

“What’s that?" Max asked.

“I heard about what going on up here, thought that. Well,” she uncurled her hand, “We’ve been using some washers with some rubber sides as paperweights, they might work well as a attachment on whatever arm she’s using.”

Ace looked over at her words, and pulled a half-finished arm from a box. “Mm, would help her handle paper without tearing it. Something for this light arm, maybe?"

He handed the arm over to Cheedo, who held it hesitantly.

Then Ace handed her a tool, friendly-like. "Go on then, put them on."

"I, uh…" The girl looked a little lost with it. Max thought he should, perhaps, say something. But the words still felt creaky in him and he felt a bit like he should run, at that moment hearing all the young voices that would ask things of him. Even in this sunlight, even with this green surrounding him, his ghosts call; and it made him feel cornered unexpectedly.

Ace stared at her for a moment with raised eyebrows, then shook himself, muttering "No, how would you know that?" and showed her how to loosen the joins that were currently on the fingers of the arm.

Cheedo watched him carefully, then got to work unscrewing what was needed to attach the new bit. Max felt something strangle in his stomach, watching Ace teach her.  Like the first punch of air after being underwater.

He was relieved, and strange with it. With this feeling that sat as awkwardly as he felt, in this place where he was not exactly needed. But still welcomed; a box got tapped in his direction by Rachet, who didn’t meet his eyes but threw him a smile, and Kompass slid some tools over, and occasionally when he looked up, he was greeted with a look from various people that said,

_it’s good to have you back._

Max swallowed against it, and felt undeserving.

 

* * *

 

Toast circled their group and then kneeled down with Furiosa, lowering her voice. "None of your warboys have touched their brands."

"No?" Furiosa agreed, puzzled.

"There have been a few, since the dispute. Cutting at it or… trying to get it off of them."

"Mine might be waiting on me." Furiosa didn't seem all that surprised. Toast squinted at her a little, unsure if this meant it was typical war boy behavior or if Furiosa was still in that distanced state she’d been in while recovering.

"Can't you try to stop the others?"

"I thought you'd be…” and here she flicked her gaze at Dag, talking a ways away with some greenthumbs, “happy that they'd want Joe's mark off of them."

"I am.. we _are_ , but it's so— one warboy cut it off deep, it's horrible." The bleeding wouldn’t stop and it took both Capable and Toast talking to Feng to get the Soundless to come help instead of letting the war boy cauterise it himself. “He was sleeping it off in the infirmary but, you know them best, do you think other war boys would see it as an example?”

She'd seen a little of how they liked to one-up each other, prove their 'hardness' by taking risks and inflicting pain. Even these warboys, even with Furiosa's influence, wrestled at the drop of a hat and found it hilarious when somebody tripped and fell.

"An example of stupidity maybe. Dying from that would be a soft death," she paused, eyeing Kompass significantly, who nodded in return. Toast wondered if he'd understood to spread the word. She hoped so.

"Hmm, the scarification is more than just decoration," Furiosa continued. "It’s as prized as a name. If you found out your name had been soured, had never meant what you thought it did...” Furiosa looked into the distance thoughtfully then refocused on Toast, “I could try to stop them, but if the only alternative is to keep walking around with the brand, you'll always have guys who try to take it off themselves somehow. No one wants to tie themselves to something that’s rust.”

“Like no one wants a name that’s rust,” Toast hummed thoughtfully.

“Just like that.” Furiosa shrugged, “I'm surprised they cut at it, I would have expected them to put a second brand over it." They both reflexively touched their necks.

Toast winced, but shook it off. "We want to introduce a new symbol, to replace the skulls. Maybe as a tattoo for those that don’t want new branding. Wanted to run it by you first."

"Yeah?" Furiosa was distracted for a moment by the call for a tool from the other side of the circle. She tossed it easily, and then refocused on Toast.

Toast pulled dug a piece of chalk from a belt pocket and glanced around, finding a likely flat rock to sketch on. “We have the original brand right? or even the rock face. If we tattoo over it, and add these lines, with the flames it looks like—”

“A tree,” Furiosa breathed, scooting closer.

“The skull on the Citadel never had any flames,” Toast shrugged, “could never figure out if that meant that Joe never expected to go out to Vahalla himself.” She saw Kompass’ head dart up, out of the corner of her eye.

"We could plant creeper vines on the walls there, and shape them into the leaves on a tree." Dag said, as she came up to them, “Leaves from stone. Green from stone.”

She stood in front of Furiosa and shifted her weight a little, awkwardly. “Some words of mine were over-sharp about your arm. But I saw you and yours here, making new arms for a new life, and I thought…” Dag looked around at them all, and firmed her jaw some. "Maybe she needs an arm that's not for war."

Trowel walked shyly up to them, carrying a piece of thick tree branch. “Imperator.”

“This had been downed since the last sandstorm,” Dag explained, “It was to go to the Immortan anyway but. I can have the carvers work to make an arm that won’t rust; useful for if you’d like to join us up here sometime to work on the green.”

Wood wouldn’t rust if she’d decided to water plants, but was such a rare and valuable material that Furiosa was surprised and honored it was being offered.

“Capable said it’s possible. She’s talking about the design now with the others,” Dag pointed up the terraces to where the redhead was talking rapidly with both a greenthumb and an artisan that a war pup brought up. “Could bring them down if you have any preferences? You know best what works for you.”

Furiosa looked at the people gathered around her, for her, and felt humbled with it, with these signs of esteem that they’d made and brought for her. “All these arms, I wouldn’t even be able to use them all.”

“Don’t matter Boss,” Rachet called from his end, face screwed up as he’d tightened a couple last screws, “Wanted to make sure you _could_ , if you wanted to. Here, pass this over to her.”

The arm was passed along and it was like nothing they’d been talking about, no armaments or crossbows or grenades. Just a light, functional arm with a strange attachment.

“What’s that?” Austeyr asked, as he passed it along, pointing it out.

“Don’t think she’s visited the hanging gardens for a long time right?” _since she’d lost her arm_ , was left unsaid. “Thinking the Boss might want to zip around some, like the Soundless. This bit prevents the rope from sliding back out if she don’t want.”

“...What?” Furiosa asked faintly.

“You…” the war boy looked small and uncertain, “don’t want to move like—”

“Rachet, how did you know this is how they get around?” They were all staring back at him in confusion.

“The _fffzzzzip_ sound?”

“What?!”

“It’s very distinctive?”

The arm finally got to Furiosa and she fiddled with it, ignoring the exclamations and the questions at Rachet that continued without her, seeing where the lines would go and playing with the pulley mechanism. She’d test it out in one of the larger rooms first, see how much weight it could bear and for how long, and then fiddle with the fit around her shoulder and waist if it checked out.

She found herself looking forward to it like she hadn’t much of anything for a long while.

“Rachet,” she called out, testing the straps, then looking up with a small quirk around her mouth.

“Yeah Boss?”

“Looks good.”

The man beamed and Austeyr crowed and bumped their knees together so enthusiastically that Rachet nearly tipped over backwards.

“Watch the injuries!” Furiosa called out with laughter in her voice. "Need you all in one piece."

“Sure thing Boss!”

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you have lovely holidays of whatever variation you celebrate! 
> 
> (Our posting schedule is slowing down for a bit because BHN is a-traveling, but rest assured that this story is still happening :-)


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